


When Remmy met Charlie

by MoochyMunchkin



Series: Pack Street Fandom [4]
Category: Pack Street (Fandom), Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Fanwork of Fanwork, Gen, Seasonal, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8902543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoochyMunchkin/pseuds/MoochyMunchkin
Summary: Remmy is a sheep who lives almost next door to a petty thief corsac fox with a built-in set of lock-picking claws, so how she broke in isn't nearly as hard to understand as why. And now as the omega, letting her sleep in his apartment -- as if he could keep her out without barricading the door -- is causing friction. So it's up to Remmy to sleuth out the issue of why she and her roommate are fighting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Don't think about this one too hard, and you'll enjoy yourself. The characters belong to Weaver, so read those if you want the canon shenanigans. These are just fun. It could do with some editing, but against my better judgement I think I'll post it. I'd need beta readers to make better drabbles.

Remmy’s apartment was dark and cold. It was cold because not only was it winter, but he was poor — too poor to turn on the central heating all ‘night’ thanks to reduced hours at work the last few weeks, and too proud to ask for a loan to cover it — and it was dark because of thick blinds installed over the windows by the previous tenant.

His one luxury, if you could call it that, was a daylight lamp that he fired up every ‘morning’ to help keep his sleep schedule somewhat in order. It didn’t really work, but he was stuck with it because his joke of a boss was only handing out nocturnal hours for his joke of a job. But the joke — what was left after the vast amount of it fell on Remmy himself — was on  _ them _ , because Remmy was stuck in Pack Street, where the entire neighbourhood, or so it seemed, was nocturnal. And now so was he.

However, he hadn’t stopped finding it hard to sleep when the sun was up, which was why it was doubly annoying when, in the middle of his ‘night’, Charlie decided to drop by.

 

He’d locked his door of course, though recently he’d been asking himself why he bothered, because Charlie — the often irritating and annoyingly versatile corsac fox from next door — not only knew how to pick locks but did so constantly. Mostly the one on  _ his _ door.

It had to be said, though, she’d never  _ added _ things to his apartment, especially not  _ herself _ .

“Mmm, you’re warm. Shift over, yarnball, I do need  _ some _ of the blanket,” she mumbled as she clambered up into his bed.

For his part, Remmy was now ramrod straight in his bed with shock as the mostly naked female snuggled up against him. He fought hard not to bleat in shock as she took a firm paw-hold of his fleece and dug in, and almost won.

“Ch-Charlie!? What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Trying to get some rest, omega, so hush,” the corsac fox replied. And that was apparently that.

Remmy lay there, eyes open and staring into nothing, as the vixen started to gently snore next to him. He gripped his half of what had been entirely his duvet so tight that he almost sliced through it, the TILT sign all but visible in his eyes as his brain attempted to work out what to do and utterly failed. Eventually the brain crash resulted in the rest of him crashing, and sleep claimed him.

 

His first waking thought was  _ gee, that was one fantastic night’s sleep _ , before the part of his brain that handled memories fired up and coughed nervously in the corner until the rest of his brain allowed it to explain why the reason he felt so comfortable, warm and relaxed was that he was big-spooning with a relatively diminutive vixen. He jerked fully awake, which woke Charlie, who stretched and yawned, kneading his wool as she did so.

“Hey yarnball, how’d you sleep?” she asked sleepily, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“I, I, I—” Remmy began, but could go no further. Charlie didn’t seem to care. She stretched one more time, sat up, gave Remmy a kiss on the cheek then hopped out of bed.

“Want some breakfast?” she asked, heading to his kitchenette.

Remmy bleated in distress before jumping out of bed, covering himself with the nearest t-shirt he could find and booking it to his bathroom. He locked the door and leaned against it, breathing hard. What the hell was going on?

Peeking out, he saw Charlie attempting to turn leftovers into breakfast, as if they’d been an item for years and it was her matronly duties to serve her ram. Closing the door again as silently as possible, Remmy pinched himself, then swore in Ungulese as he whipped his arm back and forth through the air at the sting. Actually awake, then. After hyperventilating, stomping around the bathroom shaking fists in silent rage, headbutting the wall and screaming into the towels, he gave himself a quick once-over with the shower, trimmed his fleece down with the shears quickly so he looked more like a presentable member of the pack and less like an overgrown stuffie, then took a deep breath and... stopped dead at the still-closed door to — or rather  _ from _ — his bathroom, one hoof raised.

“Are you nearly finished, dear?” called Charlie, innocently.

“I-I’ll be right the-e-e-ere,” Remmy bleated, clapping his hooves over his muzzle as he did so. After some more hyperventilating — a good deal of it at how his hyperventilating was going to make him later than he obviously already was — he nervously stepped out of the bathroom into a 50’s infomercial.

Charlie was standing at attention next to a plate of hurriedly reheated bugburga with soggy fries, wearing a pensive expression on her muzzle. Mystified, the ram sat down at the tiny one-person table and tried to eat some of the food in front of him. He really didn’t have time for this, but didn’t really see how to get out of it. He was also trying to work out why it felt so bad eating said plate of food, because it was his electricity that had heated, in his beater of a microwave, the roachburger he’d bought himself with his own money the night before. And now Charlie was serving it to him.

“Ch-Charlie?” Remmy asked, having swallowed a mouthful of food. “What’s… why are you..? What happened to you and, uh, Marty?”

“Oh, it just didn’t work out,” Charlie nonchalantly replied. “I left a book in the wrong pile or something. Dweeb totally spazzed out on me. I know when I’m not wanted.”

_ Like hell you do _ . “Uh… how long are y-you gonna be staying?”

“Eh, a while. You’re the omega, so I get to stay here.” Charlie picked at her claws with her teeth, looking disinterested.

Remmy ground his teeth together at that. Would there ever be an end to the bullshit that actually being part of the pack meant flowed through his door? Every day it was ‘omega has to clean the toilets’ or ‘omega has to beat the carpets’ or some other menial bullshit chore. He was pretty sure most of it was their just taking advantage of him — which kind of  _ was _ what an omega was for after all, he guessed — but he kind of liked the newfound camaraderie so was putting up with most of it. For now. “And Marty’s cool with this?”

Charlie snorted dismissively. “As if I care.”

“And  _ Al’s _ cool with this?”

Charlie made another disinterested noise, shrugging her shoulders and turning to pour him a cup of coffee. He wondered where she’d got it, he didn’t  _ own _ any coffee. Or the coffee maker she poured it out of.

He compromised on the whole situation; he’d pretend not to notice and she’d pretend not to care. He ate half of the impromptu breakfast, mumbled a thanks whilst offering the rest to the corsac fox and then bolted for the door and freedom, almost bowling Marty over as he fled to his shitty job and some semblance of normalcy.

 

***

 

Shift over, Remmy found he couldn’t face his own apartment, so he took a detour to Flock Street. The apartment he found himself knocking on was small and pathetic, but not quite as pathetic as his own.

“Remmy?” Carrie said sleepily as she opened the door, chain on. The wolf’s muzzle brightened as she realised who it was.

“Er, hi!” He cleared his throat.  _ Try to sound less eager, idiot _ , he told himself. “I mean, uh, hi, yes, hello. I, uh, well… there’s a bit of a situation over on Pack Street and—”

The door closed. There was scrabbling at it, then it opened again, without the security chain. “Oh god, nothing serious, I hope?”

Remmy waved his hooves at the wolf as she stepped out of the doorway. “No, no, nothing like that, I just… don’t want to go home yet. Can… can I come in?”

Carrie tried to stop her tail wagging, but it was pretty much a lost cause. “You know you can always stop by, Rem. Come in, get out of the cold.” The wolf beckoned him into her den, and he followed.

She busied herself making tea before reappearing with two wolf-appropriate mugs, wide and flat, perfect for lapping from. Remmy bleated in thanks, and tried his best to use them properly. Sitting on the couch next to him, Carrie blushed.

“Stop it! You’re so silly!” She laughed, one of the happiest sounds out of her muzzle that the previously withdrawn wolf had ever made, as Remmy made a show of lapping up the tea, poorly.

“Hey, an omega’s got to learn how to drink out of a cup properly. Do you think I should practice with something bigger, like a toilet?”

Carrie snorted with mirth, then stopped, her ears perking up. “Wait,  _ omega _ ? You’re… you’re in the pack?”

Remmy showed her the whistle he’d had around his neck for some time now, nodding. She threw her paws around his neck and, before she could stop herself, kissed him.

“That’s wonderful news! That’s… they’re, oh. Uh, they’re not… traditionalists, are they?” Carrie’s ears drooped.

“What, that whole omega’s can’t mate thing is still a thing? I mean, in some places? Because no, no that’s not a thing. For us. For me. O-or I guess for us too, I guess. Oh god.” Remmy bleated nervously. He’d been doing that a lot, he realized. Carrie just threw her paws around his neck and nuzzled him.

“It’s okay, we’re still… working out what we are, right?”

“Right. And that’s kind of why I’m here.” Remmy rubbed the back of his head with his hooves. “I’ve kind of got a fox living with me.” Remmy took hold of Carrie’s paws as she froze. “Not like that. She just… broke in. What do I do?”

“Call the police?”

“On a pack member? Nuh uh, no way.”

“She’s pack? Then you’ve got to make her want to leave. Or, uh, take it up with the Alpha.”

“Al? No fucking way, I ask him, he’s likely to make me serve her hoof, er, paw and muzzle.”

“Can’t blame a girl for wanting that sort of treatment.”

Remmy took a deep breath. “One day. When I’m… less of a screwup.” Would he move out of Pack Street? Would Carrie move in?

Carrie brightened. “One day, then.” She lapped at her tea for a moment. “You mean that?”

Remmy thought for a few moments. “You know… I think I do?”

Carrie’s tail wagged enthusiastically. Remmy wasn’t still sure about how he felt about her, but he did know he didn’t want to hurt her. Quite the contrary, he wanted her to be happy. He wanted… he wanted her. And one day soon, he was going to have her, for real. If he could just survive this week.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” he said to her, finally.

“Th-then… then maybe you should lie down. W-with me. For a while. While we plan what you need to do.”

“I’d like that.”

 

***

 

Stepping into the apartment block, Remmy paused. With every clandestine meeting down on flock street so far, he’d been really careful. He’d showered, or gone to work, or aired his fleece out some other way. This time he’d just marched his butt home with a bitch’s scent all over him. To an apartment full of wolves, all of them with really good noses. Oh, shit.

Every single head turned towards him before, just as quickly, turning away again. It gave him the heebie jeebies. He cleared his throat.

“Uuuh, h-hi, everyone.”

There was suddenly a distinct lack of attention being focused on him; from the twins, from Betty... suspiciously infact, all the onlookers were patently ignoring him, although nostrils twitched visibly. The ram clutched his hooves together as he crossed through the lobby of death glares — he could feel them, even though they were deliberately  _ not _ being sent his way — and ascended the stairs of purgatory. He booked it to his floor, pegged it to his apartment, opened his door, and slammed it behind him as he went in, breathing heavily.

“Hey Remmy, I was wondering when you’d get back,” said a familiar voice.

Oh  _ Pelias _ , she was still there. And she’d cleaned up and made something to eat. And oh god he still smelled of Carrie. And he still didn’t know what to do.  _ Should _ he ask Al? How else could he get her to leave?

Through a throat as dry as the knees on a Savannah Square camel, he replied, “H-hey, Charlie. N-nice to, uh, see you here again. I, uh, I just remembered I gotta… go do a, uh, a thing. Be right back.”

Remmy turned and fiddled with the door, panicking so hard he could barely get it open. When he did, he tripped over a small package that had somehow been left in the doorway. Had it been there before? He shook his head to clear it then looked up and down the hallway. Seeing nobody, he picked up the package and opened it. It was a smallish cardboard box with a few odds and sods inside, and a note which read:

 

_ Here are a few of her things. Please take good care of them, she gets cranky when she can’t find them and she’s not very good at keeping track of them herself. _

_ — M _

 

Remmy swore softly to himself, glared once at his door then stomped down the hallway and out of the building. This was just too much to put up with this late — or this early, depending who you were asking — in the day. He needed to get out again for a while.

 

With the sun peeking firmly over the horizon, Remmy was making his way downtown the long way. Sleep debt tomorrow was going to be an utter bitch, but needs must when the devil-fox drives. He was headed vaguely towards Dora’s little shop of horrors as he travelled a few blocks more, in the same daze he’d been in all day, before he spied a well-known, well-hidden alley and made a left. He definitely needed a breather this ‘evening’ before facing the everyday madness that was life on Pack Street again.

The crates were still there from however long ago it had been since he’d been shown the hidden basketball court. The mural on the building, however, was different. That there was a mural at all was a testament to the quite frankly unacknowledged artistry and dedication of whatever mammal had painted the graffiti yet again after the city in its infinite wisdom had had it once more removed. A glorious sunrise rising over a savannah, the sky on the building glowing with unbelievable — yet somehow perfectly toned — multi-colored shades.

“Bully, my man, not cool,” came a familiar voice, tinged with frustration.

Remmy turned in confusion. “Ozzy?” He scratched his head with one hoof. Oh god, it had to be about Carrie. Shit, couldn’t they just let it be? Was he… breaking some still in force pack rule by dating  _ outside _ the pack? Was it because Carrie was a wolf? Did they think it was serious? Did they not approve? Even  _ after _ Al and that Vi character? This on top of Charlie screwing with him for some reason, that was all he needed.

“Al’s  _ furious _ ,” Ozzy cackled. It wasn’t a good cackle, either.

Remmy swore in Ungulese. “What the fuck? I didn’t do anything.”

“You know what you did, and you’d better undo it chop-chop.” The hyena lobbed the basket ball he’d been carrying at the ram with an offpaw showing of anger that just mystified Remmy more.

“Sure, sure,” the ram replied. “Beat me at one on one and I will.”

 

The game helped focus his attention, the exercise worked on the stress. At the end of thirty minutes or so, mentally and physically worn down, he was a point up on Ozzy. He made to take a shot, the kind of shot that could decide a game, then instead just lobbed it to the hyena.

“You win,” he said. “Now for flock’s sake tell me what Al’s problem with me is.”

Ozzy cackled, this time in surprise. “You mean you don’t know?”

Remmy shook his head, silently biting off the retort about double standards that would get him mauled if he voiced it.

“Shit, grazer, they say love kills braincells, but I didn’t think it was  _ that _ literal. How did you think we wouldn’t find out?”

“Wh-what?” It  _ was _ about Carrie? And they didn’t approve? What the hell, Al can swan about with a piece of prey ass, but the omega can’t have a turnabout piece of pred hiney?

“You slept with her, and practically next door? And you thought Marty wouldn’t find out? That he wouldn’t care?”

“Well, we haven’t actually… wait, what?  _ Marty _ ?”

“Yeah. Marty.”

_ Oh shit _ . Suddenly everything made sense. “This is about  _ Charlie _ !?” Remmy had just assumed... he’d assumed she’d just been tormenting him, that nobody else would give a damn. Of course, he’d got it backwards. As usual.

Ozzy cocked his head to one side. “Of course Charlie, who’d you think it was ab—”

Remmy bleated in nervous, interrupting laughter. “All we did was sleep… I mean,” Remmy coughed, bleating again, “I mean  _ she _ broke into  _ my _ apartment and forced herself into  _ my _ bed. And  _ all we did was sleep _ .”

Ozzy panted gently for a few moments, head still cocked to one side. “You mean…”

“Crazy fox broke into my apartment, sleeps in my bed, and it’s  _ my _ fault? Yeah, sounds fair.”

Ozzy cackled, this time with true laughter. “Oh man, oh man, this is too much. You gotta  _ do _ something, Woolly Bully!”

“You’re tellin’ me!” Remmy replied, beating his chest with a hoof. “What the hell’s this about, then? I thought Charlie was just Marty’s roommate? Surely she can move out if she… if she wants.”  _ That doesn’t mean I want her moving  _ in _ though _ .

Ozzy sat down, chuckling softly. I didn’t know if I’d ever heard such a soft hyena-cackle from him. He shook his head, wiping his brow and lips before wiping his forepaw on his t-shirt. “Oh man, you really  _ don’t _ know. It’s… complicated. You’re also the omega, Bully, that makes it even  _ more _ trouble.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Ozzy,” Remmy replied, levelling a hoof at the hyena. “That’s ancient history. Omega’s can—” Remmy bleated yet again, a nervous tick he really hated. Now he knew how Ozzy felt. The ram lowered the volume as he looked about nervously, aware his voice had been bouncing off the walls, literally. “Omega’s can mate if they want.”

“Yeah, but you’re messing with the Pack order, WB.”

“I’m not!  _ She _ is messing with  _ me _ !”

“And you’ve gotta un-mess it.” Ozzy stood up, patting the sheep on his shoulder. “Wouldn’t wanna be in your hooves,” he added, before taking his ball and disappearing into the shadows.

 

Defeated, Remmy sat on the makeshift seat for a while as the sun continued to rise. Finally he stood up. Enough of the timid, pushover sheep crap. He rolled his head until his neck cracked then shook himself out. After the workout, he was feeling the chill in the winter air even through his fleece, even as the temperature rose. Time to do some digging into corsac foxes. That meant the library.

 

***

 

Remmy pushed the huge doors of the library open and trotted in. As it was early morning for most people, the place was mostly deserted save for a few patrons playing computer games or browsing, and a single sullen mustelid weaseling the counter.

“Marty?” Remmy called as he walked closer. There was something odd about the creature, though, and he couldn’t quite put his hoof on it… then he realized, the mammal before him was wearing a dress. And a parka that covered almost the rest of her entire body  _ and _ head, face included, like that character out of  _ South Pack _ that kept dying all the time.  _ Martina _ .

“Oh, Martina, thank god it’s you. You have no idea the sort of day I’ve had.”

“Y-yeah, Martina,” she squeaked. “These are my… uh, I’m cold. So I’m wearing a lot of clothes. Which I won’t take off. And I’m Martina.”

“O-kay. Look, I need to… talk to you. About Marty. And Charlie.”

“H-he’s v-very happy f-for you. A-and for Ch-Charlie,” Martina replied, her voice tight.

“No, that’s… that’s not what I mean. I need to know, are those two, um, an item?”

“NO! I mean… no. Th-they aren’t. Because Charlie’s a thieving, criminal bitch who just broke in one day and never left a-and d-does nothing but eat his food a-and mess up his books.”

“She, uh, she did? She does?”

“Yeah, she’s just a bitch who used him and now he’s… heartbroken.”

If Remmy hadn’t know better, he’d have thought Martina hadn’t meant to let him know that last bit. “Look, I’m… I’m sorry about that. It’s not my fault. I don’t know what I can do about it.”

“J-just l-look after… after her,” Martina sniffled, choking back a sob between words and pulling a paw across her covered face. “Treat her right. O-okay?”

“Yeah about that, I—” Remmy broke off as Martina fled. He shook his head. Poor gal, she was so upset for her brother, even though Marty was an asshole who doesn’t deserve a sister as cute, kind and friendly as Martina. Still, Remmy had a job to do, and now he had to do it himself. He still needed info on corsac foxes.

 

Several stacks of tomes later and he was no closer to figuring out what was wrong with Charlie… when a dim bulb brightened. Maybe it  _ wasn’t _ Charlie that had something wrong with her. Obviously, she had a  _ lot _ of things wrong with her, but this time none of them were what was causing her to torment  _ him _ . Martina was the key, in fact. Martina was acting odd, even for a stoat. Wrapped up in that winter coat…

“Winter… winter coat. Winter Coat! That’s it!”

Remmy dashed out of the library, bleating with happiness. If his hunch was at all correct, he was going to be out-foxed by lunchtime. Which was handy, because that was his midnight and he was  _ really _ going to be dead mutton in the morning at this rate. Evening. Whatever.

 

***

 

“Heeeyyy, Charlie! Great to see you. Wonderful. So you’re staying here now, huh? Great, Brilliant. L-let’s, uh, let’s get you the rest of your things, alright?”

Remmy was grinning madly as he stood in the open doorway of his apartment. Charlie was standing in the middle of the kitchenette looking more dumbfounded than usual.

“Yeah, sure, wannabite. Fantastic to be here. D-do you, uh, want anything to eat?”

“That’d be great, but I need to go shopping and all before that, and y-you must need more of your stuff, right?”

“I guess.” Charlie shrugged noncommittally, tail and ears flicking in confusion. She’d been prepared for Remmy freaking out, or Remmy shouting then freaking out. Or even Remmy getting horny and freaky in that sheepy way of his, but not  _ this _ much acceptance.

“Then let’s get your stuff now. I’m really beat and I need to hit the hay, had a lot to do, uh, today, so let’s get going, then we can get to bed and snuggle. You like that, right?”

“What’s got into you, grazer?” Charlie asked, furrowing her brow, but she followed the sheep as he walked out into the hallway. She even followed him to her old apartment where he stood, looking like an idiot.

“Can you open the door?” he asked. “Marty’s not here, he said he had something to do.” Which was a lie, because he’d sucked it up and had asked Betty. Marty had returned from his job early — obviously he’d asked his sister to cover for him — and had stormed into his apartment and slammed the door. For such a tiny creature, he’d made a lot of noise. Presumably he was still in there. Which was going to make the timing on this next part quite tricky.

“Sure, outta the way, wannabite.”

Remmy stepped back as Charlie got to work. Extending one claw, she jiggled it experimentally, raking the lock. A few moments later, the door opened and Charlie sauntered in. And came muzzle to muzzle with Marty.

“What the fuck—!”

“Charlie?”

“Marty!? Remmy! Yarnball you told me—”

The rest of Charlie’s tirade was cut off as the door was slammed in her face. A few seconds later, Remmy pulled open the letterbox and pushed a smallish object through. Followed by a piece of paper.

“Read this!” he said, then closed the letterbox and leaned on the door. “Betty! I think I’m really, really going to need your help! Like right now!”

“Yeah, yeah, fluff, keep your fleece on.” Betty rounded the corner from where she’d been waiting, trotted up to the door and leaned on it. “What’s this about?”

“Look, me and Charlie…  _ so _ not a thing. Last night? Literally just sleeping.”

“So what’s new?”

“So I’m not only  _ not _ sleeping with Charlie, but never will be. And all Charlie and Marty need is some time locked together in a small room. Where either one will kill the other, or…”

“Or what?”

“Or my problems are over.”

There were several thumps against the door and a lot of incoherent screaming, followed by the sound of something being thrown, then lots of muffled arguments. And finally silence.

Betty looked down at Remmy for a few moments. “You realize if they  _ have _ killed each other, I’m blaming you?”

“Just open it already.”

“I don’t have a spare key. Al does. I can  _ get  _ Al. If you want.”

“No! No, just… shift over.”

Remmy peeked through the letterbox again, then nodded. “All clear. I’m going to be-e-e-ed,” he bleated in a half-yawn.

Betty blinked at the ram. “What the hell did you give her?”

“Just something every corsac fox living with a stoat should have.”

“What? What was it?”

“Good night, Betty.”

“Wait! Remmy you asshole, tell me!”

“You’ll work it out.” Remmy yawned again, and headed for his own apartment.

 

***

 

Betty sat on the ratty sofa in the common area of the apartment, with her eyes fixed on the stairs in a way that, in previous millennia, wolves like her may have kept an eye on a white tailed deer. Her patience was rewarded when first Charlie and then a now mostly visible Marty — rather than sporting that ugly parka he’d been wearing recently that covered his entire body — came down them.

Charlie, not usually one for shows of affection that didn’t involve fists, gave the stoat a quick kiss on his winter-coated head before she headed out the door. For his part, Marty went and sat on the sofa next to Betty, forepaws crossed.

“What!?” he growled, when he caught the timber wolf looking down at him. Betty grinned, her tail giving an involuntary wag. Sly sheep. Idiot stoat. Who’d’ve guessed.

“It happens to all of us, you know, I don’t know why you keep spazzing out about your winter coat coming in. Besides, it looks good now you let Charlie brush you.”

Marty bit off his retort and just glowered.


End file.
